


Closer (Love Me Now)

by The_lazy_eye



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Courtship, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Kissing, Sexual Content, They're just so in love god dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23026537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: However, it wasn’t the sight of her running full force that will forever be burning in his brain. No, it was her choice in outfit. She had a simple, powder blue blouse with which she matched a silk blue ribbon in her hair. Both classic Anne choices of fashion. The kicker was the brown trousers she was wearing. He watched as each individually defined leg stepped out in front of the other and carried her straight to him.His fiancé was wearing pants. And he quite liked the sight of her in them.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 32
Kudos: 327





	Closer (Love Me Now)

The sight he beheld at the entrance to the walking path was one he knew he’d never forget. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was running at him at full speed with a wide run and bright eyes. She called out for him, voice high pitched and enthusiastic and as she got closer, and he noticed the wild look in her eyes. 

There were four months and several days between the time they’d seen each other last. 

It wasn’t desired, but it was all they could manage given Anne’s first official teaching job and Gilbert’s rigorous medical training. There simply wasn’t enough time for him to manage the ideal of traveling from Toronto once and month to visit his fiancé. He was always jammed up with studying or research or his latest papers. They managed, though. The letters they sent once a week held them together like the dried wax they sealed the envelopes with. 

It was enough, but nothing compared to the all-encompassing joy of being reunited. 

Which is why Anne was barreling toward him without a care in the world. 

However, it wasn’t the sight of her running full force that will forever be burning in his brain. No, it was her choice in outfit. She had a simple, powder blue blouse with which she matched a silk blue ribbon in her hair. Both classic Anne choices of fashion. The kicker was the brown trousers she was wearing. He watched as each individually defined leg stepped out in front of the other and carried her straight to him. 

His fiancé was wearing pants. And he quite liked the sight of her in them. 

“Gilbert!” She hollered, finally reaching him and throwing herself into his arms. They spun together, embracing on the dirt path and laughing with each other. It felt right to have her in his arms again, as if a piece of a puzzle was finally reunited within him. He was not complete without his Anne and he longed for her during the moments in between. 

One more year of school. One more and they could be together like this every single day for the rest of their lives. 

“Anne,” He hummed, watching as she pulled away and smiled brightly up at him. “My Anne, what is all this?”

He meant it fondly as he smiled down at her. 

“I decided I’d take a page out of Miss Stacy’s book!” She announced, arms crossed firmly against her chest and chin high in the air. “And I must say, it’s been quite liberating. I don’t see why men get to have all of the freedoms of trousers while women are forced to don layer after layer of tedious skirt. Sometimes I feel as though I can hardly breath in those things! And yet, here you are, only having to simply slip your legs through two tubes of fabric, seal a button, and you’re done. You have no idea how good you’ve got it, Gilbert Blythe!”

Well, she certainly had a point. Never once had he thought about the processes of wearing such intricate dresses before. He’d only ever noticed how pretty they were and how she looked in them, always a goddess amongst their peers. Even her simpler dresses from when they were younger looked regal upon her. It never really occurred to him how many layers there were or how long they took to put on. Thinking about it now, though, it makes sense. It’s simple for him to get dressed in the mornings. No wonder women took so long to get ready. 

His stunned silence seemed to deflate her. He saw a change shift across her face, her posture sinking from confident to insecure as she wrapped her arms tighter across her chest. Her eyes went from fiery and intense to questioning and worried. And when she spoke again, her voice was soft. “Do you think – of course you do. Never mind, this is silly. I must look ridiculous. I can’t believe –”

“No!” He shouted, unable to help himself as he stepped forward and gathered her back into his arm. Her eyes were close to misting and her voice warbled while she spoke. He just couldn’t take it, not when she was so wrong to doubt herself. “You look magnificent. I’ve never seen someone so stunning in a pair of trousers before. Dare I say, you look far more dashing than I could ever hope to achieve.”

Her hand thumped against his chest, not hard enough to hurt. Then, she let out the smallest giggle and despite not being able to see her face where it was tucked against his neck, he knew he’d won. 

“You’re nothing but a sweet talker,” She mumbled halfheartedly. 

“I’m nothing but a lovesick fool,” He corrected. “But I’m correct in my statement. Shall we?”

Silently, she took his arm and they embarked down the path. The woods around them seemed to curl inward to welcome them as they walked. Leaves rustled in the faint winds and flowers twisted elegantly from the breeze. Anne spoke to every bud they passed, praising their beauty and thanking them for joining her and her beau on their stroll.

Beyond the trees, Anne spoke of nymphs and faeries playing among the roots. She weaved magical tales of strife and love, willow and oak, magic and power. Gilbert couldn’t help but become caught up in her sweet voice, diving into the depths of her imagination and adding little pieces of the story here and there. He’d ask questions of princes and knights, insinuate new and unique troubles for the main protagonist to stumble upon, shout in glee as the story climaxed and Anne introduced new twists and turns that he’d never expect. 

And when it was all finished, he’d urge her to put her ideas down onto paper to preserve the magic of the story just as he always did. Predictably, she refused, yet he would never stop encouraging her. One day, he’d love to see a cover decorated with the name Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Blythe on the windowsill of every bookshop in Canada. 

They arrived at a quaint clearing in the woods just as Anne reached the end of her story. It was a location Gilbert had been leading them to with purpose, for only hours before he’d set up blankets and baskets for their afternoon picnic. He was taking a risk in praying that their food wasn’t stolen by the fauna and was rewarded with the way Anne’s face lit up at the sight. 

“Oh, Gilbert! How fanciful!” She exclaimed, racing off toward the blankets so she could throw her arms up and spin in the middle of the clearing. He watched as she danced, eyes closed and arms outstretched. Her hair flowed like fire in a river, falling out of its loose braid and trailing behind her.

After a moment, he joined her and coaxed her to sit down. They enjoyed their meal – prepped mostly by Mary and Delphine – while he shared tale after tale about medical school. She took her turn to listen with rapt attention while he described the research he was involved with, egging him on to share hopes and dreams for the future of medicine. And even though he enjoyed talking about his studies and their plans for the future, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to the outfit Anne had adorned for their reunion. 

“I suppose you could do all wonders of things with those pants,” Gilbert mused. “Riding a horse must be much easier. And running, too.”

Anne laughed, hearty and full as he talked. “Yes! I feel so much lighter and I don’t need to worry about sitting wrong and – heaven forbid – my knees showing!”

“Oh, heaven forbid indeed,” He teased, letting his fingers dance up her calf to her knee. It was an action he dared not do in the presence of others; but, in this secluded part of the forest it was difficult to remember that there was a world out there with expectations and rules. Here, they could make their own rules. And maybe one of those rules allowed Gilbert to reach out and touch his beautiful girl. 

“Watch this,” She said suddenly, standing and backing away from their picnic. He eyed her as she went, curious as to what she would do next. She threw herself forward with her arms outstretched, rotating in a perfect pinwheel before landing back on her feet. “Ta-da!”

“Anne!” He laughed, “What in Pete’s name was that?”

“A cartwheel,” She said proudly. Her grin was infectious and so was her laugh, and then they were both curled over, sputtering into the grass. “I couldn’t do that in my skirts, now could I?”

“I suppose not,” He said. 

She grabbed him, then, pulling him to his feet and urging him to try. It took a few attempts, some even causing him to land on his backside with an undignified thump, before he was able to do it. She coached him through each attempt, teasing him as she loudly proclaimed there was something Gilbert Blythe was no good at. 

He chased her in circles, catching her waist and lifting her high into the air. They spun and laughed and played as if they were children again. Fond memories washed over him of simpler times, times when he didn’t know that this bright and beautiful feeling surging within him was love. Times when he looked upon Anne with the innocence of a boy but the passion of a man, so caught in the crossroads of figuring themselves out. He missed it, sometimes, but he wouldn’t trade this for the world. 

They ended up in the grass again, lying side by side as they caught their breaths. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, food long forgotten and sun hanging slightly lower in the sky. Distantly, he was aware that they’d need to leave soon but he had no will to go. If he could, he’d stay here with her forever. 

Then, without warning, she climbed atop him. The build of the trousers made it incredibly easy for her to settle on his hips, one leg on either side of him. It was as comfortable as it was attractive. She looked like a queen sitting atop her throne, perfectly confident and smug as she stared down. Her hands rested first on her lap, then on his stomach. Then, slowly, they trailed up his chest and neck to settle in his hair. She sunk her fingers into his curls, having to bend overtop him to reach and soon her chest was pressed almost flush to his. 

Burning heat spread over his face as he watched her coy smile. One hand stayed rooted in his curls while the other trailed back down his neck, then up to his cheek. 

Automatically, his hands went up to rest on either side of his head, fingers tangling in the soft grass. It wasn’t until he felt small strands breaking, heard them snap right next to his ear, that he realized he was holding on for dear life. The girl – no, _woman_ – on top of him would have him stuttering out his last dying breath by the time the sun set if she kept up her shenanigans.

Slowly, she leaned down. Tresses of amber washed over her shoulders and onto his chest and in that moment, he desperately wished his shirt was undone. He longed to feel the fire of her hair caress his bare skin, wanted to feel her nimble fingers undo each and every button of his vest and shirt, and then her own, until they were nothing but skin on skin, melding together on the Earth’s floor. 

But they couldn’t.

Not here. Not yet.

When she reached up to push a section of hair over her ear, his eye caught the glimmering light of her ring. _Soon. Not much longer ‘til I’ve graduated and we can be together._

“Anne,” He whispered, _prayed_ into the space between them as she brought her delicate hand down to trace over the side of her face. 

She didn’t speak. Instead, she settled more firmly onto his waist and grinned that devil’s grin. Whatever heat was in his face now pooled down through his chest and into the bottom of his belly. He dared not breathe as she leaned down into his space. His hands itched from their placement by his head to come settle on her waist, fingers eager to grip the belt loop of the trousers she wore, but they didn’t. They obeyed his command to stay put. 

“Gil,” Anne smiled down at him, giving him approximately three seconds to take a breath in before she was kissing him. 

They’ve kissed many times in their long engagement, the first being when they were only just beginning to step into their adulthood. He’d held her close and kissed her breathless before fate had cruelly ripped them apart. Well, it wasn’t fate so much as it was differing academic paths, but Anne was correct when she said it didn’t have quite as tragical of a ring to it. So, they settled on fate. 

He’d relived that kiss for months when they were apart, letting the memory of her lips on his carry him through his first semester. Then, he’d kissed her in the middle of the dirt path leading to the front door of Green Gables. Propriety be damned! Marilla nearly fainted when she stepped onto the porch and witnessed their complete disregard for social decorum. 

All of their kisses since then have been private. 

Small pecks in the parlor, longing caresses in the garden, heated makeouts in the haunted woods. And _this_. Oh, this. This magical, romantical kiss they shared under the summer sun. 

It began slow, _tantalizingly_ slow, with Anne in complete control. Her lips glided over his, gentle and smooth and so unbearably soft. He’d tilted to slot them together, allowing her to set the pace and rhythm. She tasted of honey and spice and something so distinctly her. No matter how much tea he’d drank or food he’d sampled, he could never find her taste among the flavors of the modern world. She was unique in all aspects, something electric under the surface of life.

Gradually, their pace picked up. Anne tongue darted out to trace his bottom lip and he willingly let her in to explore. He let her nip as his lip, kiss down his neck, and press herself against him as if they were the only two people in the world. He knew he was past the point of indecent but he couldn’t bring himself to mind, not when Anne pressed down against him and ripped a noise so feral from the back of his throat that he hardly recognized his own voice. 

He had half a mind to be shy or worried about what they were doing. At first, he felt ashamed. He was finding pleasure in the movement of her body and it wasn’t fair to her for him to be so crude.

But then he remembered his hands fisted in the grass and he reminded himself that she had complete control. He wasn’t _making_ her do anything. She was _choosing_ this. And there was no way he was going to stand in the way of what she wanted. 

When she rolled against him again, he met her with his own hips. She gasped against his lips, taking a second to adjust herself and then pressed down again. The friction was so delicious he nearly lost himself within it as they set a pace. He met her movements each time, drawing noises out of her again and again. He couldn’t help but drink them up like water, as if he were parched and starving and she was his only salvation. 

It built from there, going from exploratory and gentle to needy and quick. He was burning from the inside out as she chased both of their pleasure. They were close, he knew it by the way her mouth hung slightly open and her brow pinched in the middle. He could feel the way the fire inside of him grew and grew and grew until it consumed him whole. 

“I can’t – I can’t,” he chanted, all other words dying on his lips. He’d meant to finish that sentence in a thousand ways. _I can’t stop, I can’t breathe, I can’t believe this is happening, I can’t hold on._ None of those came out, though. Just the dumb repetition of _I can’t_ as he sucked in the sweet air between them. 

Anne, however, didn’t seem to catch the true meaning of his chorus because she stopped her movements almost immediately and when he looked up at her, those grey eyes were flooding with concern. “Gil, are you okay? Do you want me to stop? Oh, I’m terribly sorry – I didn’t mean –”

“Please don’t stop,” He cut in, stopping her worried words burrowing too far into her brain. 

He must look a mess; completely out of breath, face red as the setting sun, hair stuck to the sheen of sweat on his forehead, hands clutching broken strands of grass and dirt. He must look like a madman or, even worse, a wicked cur. Still, he couldn’t help the way his voice sounded when he begged, “Please, Anne.”

He was completely at her mercy.

Slowly, she looked at him. Her eyes searched his for any hint of doubt or fear and he did the same. She looked concerned, yes, but not in the ways that worried him. It was more like she looked concerned for him rather than for herself. There was no doubt in her mind what she was doing, but there was doubt as to what he was experiencing. Was this mutual? Was this wanted?

His answer was yes and he could only hope his eyes reflected that because his voice was caught deep within his throat that it would take hours to find again. 

Experimentally, she shifted her hips again. The groan that escaped him could only be described as guttural. The fact that he couldn’t control it would have been embarrassing had Anne not released a small but desperate whimper at the sound. 

Her hands found purchase on his chest, fingers playing with the fabric and accidentally – or purposefully – rubbing against his nipples and sending unexpected shocks down his chest. He was sure she could feel the way he was panting, chest moving rapidly to match the rhythm they’d set between them. 

Her name fell from his lips at the same time his own fell from hers. There was something building between them, something Gilbert had only known in the privacy of his own room while he cursed himself for the wicked thoughts he was having. But now those thoughts were reality and he was sharing them with the very subject of his most secret desires. 

In the middle of a field. In the middle of the woods. 

He pictured their first encounter much differently. Mostly, it had been with white dresses and black suits up in the privacy of a locked room. Like most others, he believed any contact he’d had with Anne would be saved for the glow of their wedding night. 

But this, oh _this_. How he couldn’t ask for a more perfect encounter. The sun bared down on them and lit Anne aflame. She glowed like the goddess of nature, every one of her glorious freckles coming to life on her porcelain skin. The blush that spread across her face and neck made her look so divine, so innocent yet powerful. Her eyes spoke a thousand unspeakable words. She looked positively radiant on top of him. The way her blouse hugged her body, the way her trousers hugged her hips, and the way her thighs hugged him. It was _perfect_. 

“Anne,” He panted again. 

“Touch me,” She demanded. His mind when on a flurry of possibilities. He could skim his hands overtop her blouse, feeling – for the first time – the soft cushion of her bosom. Or, he could be bold and find that spot his medical textbooks taught him about. It would be easy enough to find through the fabric of her trousers and if he did it right, she’d see stars. 

He settled for her hips, instead. Carefully, he held her, hands pliant under the movement of her hips. While he could easily grip her and take control of their movements, he let her keep the power. It was magnetic and so unbelievably overwhelming to watch her above him. There was something so right about Anne being in charge at this moment that he considered what their life would be like after this. He’d give up control to her every single time if she’d asked. 

They moved together and he felt the way her muscles worked under the palms of his hands. Unconsciously, he slipped one hand’s fingers through a belt loop and held on for dear life. 

When the crescendo came, Gilbert was positive he saw the birth and death of the universe at once. His vision whited out, his heart stopped beating, and the only thing that mattered was the woman above him. He felt her own hips stutter and heard her gasp and he knew she’d reached her peak, too. And at the same time as him! How wondrous.

He let his hands come up to her shoulders as he eased her off of him and into the ground. She all but molded into his side and he held her tight against him, breathing in tandem while they both took time to process the beauty that had transpired. 

“I love you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” He whispered after some time, a sentiment she returned whole heartedly. Again, they fell into a comfortable silence as the world spun around them. the sun continued to set on the horizon but he wasn’t ready to let her go, not yet. Not when he felt so much. 

“You just love my new trousers,” She teased, but he heard a second meaning in her voice. _I love you, too_. 

“I’ll admit, they are quite fantastic.”

“I have to agree,” She hummed. “I don’t think we’d have been able to do _that_ with skirts and dresses.”

“Not quite, but I look forward to the day where we can.”

He blushed at his own words. He’d very directly told her he was excited to take her to bed. Not that it should be a surprise, especially given the last half hour, but it was still improper to announce.

If Anne minded, she didn’t say anything. She just settled closer to him and sighed in contentment. It was all the answer he'd ever need. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello first Anne fic here. I am an INCREDIBLY busy student who’s just finishing up her master’s degree and thesis and I’ve had writers block ALL semester. And all of a sudden, this fic came out of nowhere! And I’m so grateful for it! It feels really good to have some creative juices flowing again. 
> 
> I saw 2-3 fics of Anne wearing trousers and Gilbert being head over heels for it and I just couldn’t resist. I actually had the scene of his hands clutching the grass in my head as I fell asleep last night and I was like “oh well, I guess this is another one of those pre-bed ideas I never write” and now here we are. I couldn’t shake it all day and I just had to write it!
> 
> I’ve been reading some of the most wonderful fics in this fandom and it’s really encouraged me to write. From reading, I’ve been able to (attempt to) adapt the language and the writing style to fit the universe Anne lives in. I always struggle with writing for worlds that aren’t American Modern because I feel like you need to make some language changes to your work to fit the world (Good Omens, I’m looking at you) and I find that to be incredibly intimidating. So here is my first attempt with AnnE! I make no promises at writing more but I also won’t say I’m finished. I think I love this universe way too much to not write for it. 
> 
> I really, really, really hope you guys enjoy this. Like, truly! It was really fun to write and I hope it’s equally fun to read. In all of my other fandoms, I really stick to angst as a genre but with AWAE I couldn’t do it! They love each other so much god dammit! I just wanted to write them so in love and so together. I hope I’ve captured that. 
> 
> Please please drop a comment and let me know your thoughts! I’d love to hear all of them and hey, who knows, maybe I’ll write another fic if people want!


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